


Bit Part

by ThrillingDetectiveTales



Series: Blockbuster [3]
Category: Suits (US TV)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-22
Updated: 2019-05-22
Packaged: 2020-03-09 20:48:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18924736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThrillingDetectiveTales/pseuds/ThrillingDetectiveTales
Summary: “Still,” Mike continues, reaching for the next glass in the flight. “An anniversary trip to wine country? Pretty gay.”





	Bit Part

**Author's Note:**

> I said I wanted to write some Mike/Harvey fluff and **@moreorlesme** on Tumblr asked for Harvey surprising Mike with something like a vacation or a birthday party, so I figured I would do a little coda to the Matinee universe where they get to take their anniversary trip to Napa.
> 
> It doesn’t necessarily fit in with the continuity of the existing stories and should be fine to read alone.
> 
> Unbeta’ed and doubtlessly goofy, but enjoy nonetheless!

“This might be the gayest thing we’ve ever done,” Mike observes, watching a fingerful of blood-rich wine swirl around the bottom of the glass he’s tilting absently back and forth, half-hypnotized by the swell of each shallow wave as it crests and bursts into a cascade of slow-dripping legs.

Harvey glances over and sips at his own sample, tongue darting out over his bottom lip to chase the bitter crush of cabernet sauvignon.

“Well,” he drawls, arching an eyebrow, “there was that whole thing where we got gay married.”

Mike sputters a snort into his glass and the tour guide glances curiously over from where she’s talking a group of middle-aged women through the characteristics of the flight that Mike and Harvey are currently nursing, an array of the vineyard’s signature reds.

“Touché,” Mike allows, once he’s managed to wrangle himself back under control. His face is flushed a sun-ripened pink over the collar of his denim button down, so dark it’s almost black, and his blue eyes are gleaming brighter than usual after an afternoon spent sampling some of Napa County’s finest vintages. He drains the entirety of his glass in one quick swallow, not bothering to try and savor it.

Harvey despairs, yet again, for his chronic lack of decorum.

“Still,” Mike continues, reaching for the next glass in the flight. “An anniversary trip to wine country? Pretty gay.”

He curls his long fingers gracefully around the crystalline stem and Harvey shifts in his seat, a low lick of heat winding its way up from his belly. Their shoulders brush where they’re turned halfway into each other and Mike shoots Harvey a lopsided grin from under the tarnished gold fan of his lashes.

“I suggest you get used to it,” Harvey says, leaning back a bit and slouching just enough that the splay of his legs brings their knees bumping together. “I have it on good authority that things are only going to get gayer from here.”

Mike snorts again, an uneven burble of choked-back amusement, while Harvey smirks triumphantly into his next sharp sip. Mike dips his head for a taste from his new glass and comes up blinking, eyebrows quirked in surprise.

“Wow,” he breathes, tongue wetting the seam of his mouth. He tilts his glass toward Harvey. “I think this might be it.”

“Really?” Harvey asks, sliding his arm across the back of Mike’s chair and cupping his hand over the curve of his shoulder, absently rubbing over the seam of Mike’s sleeve with slow, sweeping passes of his thumb. “I didn’t peg you for a fan of merlot.”

Mike makes a thoughtful humming noise in the back of his throat and sinks back into Harvey’s grip, taking another curious sip.

“It’s nice,” he says, with a short, decisive nod. “Fruity.”

“This from the man who’s worried about being too gay,” Harvey observes dryly.

Mike rolls his eyes and reaches up with his free hand to hook two fingers over the v-shaped collar of Harvey’s black cashmere sweater, the pinprick warmth of his knuckles raising a ripple of gooseflesh up the back of Harvey’s neck.

“I never said  _ that,”  _ he protests, and reels Harvey in.

The kiss he presses to Harvey’s mouth is chaste but lingering, lips soft and breath sweet where it slips past Harvey’s teeth. There was a time when Harvey might have shied away from such a public demonstration or spirited Mike off to a more private locale, but six years into a marriage he never expected, never even thought to hope for, he closes his eyes and lets himself lean into the contact, eager to match Mike’s pressure and totally heedless of who might be watching.

When he surfaces again, the tour guide is hovering nearby, a soft-edged smile curling at the edges of her mouth.

“Everything going okay over here?” she asks politely, and Mike bites his lip around a bark of laughter. Harvey squeezes his shoulder and grins up at the young woman.

“Better than,” he assures. “We’re going to need a few bottles of the merlot to take home.”

“Of course,” the guide agrees with a nod, her curtain of dark curls bouncing. “I’ll get those wrapped up for you while we’re finishing this flight. How many did you want?”

“Two?” Harvey glances over at Mike, who arches an eyebrow and makes a long, slow show of finishing off the remaining dregs of his sample glass, the lean line of his neck on full and pointed display for the few seconds it takes to tilt his head back.

“Make that four,” Harvey amends around a dry-mouthed sigh, turning to look back at the tour guide, who is very blatantly trying not to laugh. “And a full glass for the both of us, while we’re at it.”

“I can definitely do that,” the guide assures brightly, gathering their empties up into a tinkling bouquet. “Will you be finishing the rest of your reds?”

“No,” Harvey replies, curling his palm over the back of Mike’s neck, thumb tucked into the short, soft hair just behind his ear, reveling in the subdued shiver that trembles under his skin. “Someone has made it abundantly clear where our loyalties lie.”

This time the tour guide does laugh, eyes gleaming over her fine spray of freckles, while Mike hooks his ankle around Harvey’s under the table. She assures them that she’ll be back in a moment and walks away at a brisk clip, calling out half-scripted questions to the other patrons in the tasting room as she goes.

“We could have finished,” Mike murmurs, leaning in to bump his chin against Harvey’s shoulder.

“Not much point in courting subpar alternatives when you know you’ve found the ideal candidate.” Harvey tilts his head just enough to brush half a kiss against Mike’s hair with the side of his mouth.

“With romance like that, it’s a wonder we ever make it out of the bedroom.” 

Harvey rolls his eyes, ignoring the heat that creeps, tingling, along the back of his neck and the small, sour frisson that twists his stomach. He reaches over with his free hand to nudge his fingers between Mike’s, relief flooding in a cool wave from his crown to his toes when Mike meets his grip easily and gives an affectionate squeeze.

“You know I love you,” Harvey says. “The billables I turned down to take this trip alone ought to prove that. I even got the stupid ring.”

“You did get the ring,” Mike allows in an amused drawl, breath gusting hotly over Harvey’s collar, “which officially makes you a victim of the American capitalist romantic tradition like all the rest of us saps.” He grins impishly and wags his eyebrows. “The ol’ ball and chain must’ve really done a number on you to push you that far, huh?”

Harvey hums noncommittally, leaning his cheek against the crown of Mike’s head and tugging him in closer, pointedly ignoring the way the women’s party across the room coos and fawns.

“Tell me, how does it feel to secretly be a marshmallow peep?” Mike continues, delight carving dimples at the sharp edges of his grin.

“Keep on like that and I’ll sue you for defamation of character,” Harvey replies. He can feel Mike’s laugh quiver against his side.

“We could always scandalize some housewives to preserve your reputation,” he offers, voice low and soft and sweeter than most anything Harvey’s tasted all day. 

He’s peering slyly up from the vicinity of Harvey’s shoulder, blue eyes diamond-bright and burning like there’s something molten behind them, the hottest part of the flame trapped in this one hooded gaze. He licks his lips again, berry-pink mouth stained a few shades darker than normal from their afternoon of indulgence, and the heat in Harvey’s belly flares and spits sparks out to his fingertips.

“Well, what do you know?” he grins, tugging Mike up so their noses brush. “Looks like we’re not done after all.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading!
> 
> As always, [I am on Tumblr](https://rrrebeccabee.tumblr.com), and I’m generally open to requests for both Suits fluff and a bunch of other fandoms.


End file.
